


I Won't Say I'm in Love

by Scarlett_Lucian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Draco is in love, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Potions Class, Romance, slight angst at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24598618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Lucian/pseuds/Scarlett_Lucian
Summary: Draco Malfoy is pining after Harry Potter, but knows that his attraction is doomed to forever be unreciprocated. Or so he thinks until one fateful potions class that ends far differently than he expected.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 38
Kudos: 437





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the popular Amortentia prompt where Harry is late to potions class and gets confused and blurts out "Why does the classroom smell like Malfoy's cologne?" Hope you enjoy the fluffiness.

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was common knowledge that Draco Malfoy’s favourite class was potions. Now, whether that was because of genuine interest, or the fact that his position as Snape’s favourite student always had a hand in earning him good grades, no one could really say. And Draco would not give the rumour mills the satisfaction of a definite answer, shrugging the question off whenever anyone got up the nerve to ask him. He took a secret delight in keeping an air of mystery about the whole thing. Besides, he would much rather that the school was busy discussing his subject interest rather than his interest in a far different thing. Namely, a certain messy haired Chosen One whose very presence inexplicably made Draco feel as though he had a constant stream of Felix Felicis running through his Pureblood veins.   
Right now, Draco was slumped over the Slytherin table, trying to stay focused on his breakfast and pay no attention to the blur of red and gold that was teasing at the edge of his vision. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t look at the Gryffindor table. Pansy had nearly caught him out yesterday when he was idly staring at Potter during dinner, trying to decide what shade of green his eyes were in comparison to Draco’s tie. She had stared at him rather suspiciously until he had sputtered up some bullshit excuse about scoping out the other house’s Quidditch team for weaknesses. She had accepted it, but Draco could tell that it was reluctantly. She was a Slytherin after all. Scrutiny was to be expected. He just had to be more careful in the future, because Merlin forbid she figure out that his fixation with Potter had changed from rivalry to something of a completely different nature. Something he didn’t even really dare to admit to himself, let alone his housemate, who was currently eying him skeptically over her plate of eggs and toast.   
“Draco, what’s the matter with you?”   
He straightened, quickly taking a sip of pumpkin juice to give him time to think of a response. “Just tired,” he insisted. “I was up late working on that Transfiguration paper for McGonagall.”  
Pansy frowned, brushing a stray wisp of her dark hair out of her eyes. “But isn’t due for another week.”  
Damn. “Yes, but I got inspired last night and wanted to get it all down before I remembered how tedious the subject is,” Draco hastily amended, keeping his eyes fixated on his plate so that any glimmer of a lie would be concealed.   
“That's fair,” Pansy sighed and Draco felt relief wash through him. “Maybe you can help me with mine since you’ve got yours’ all finished.”   
He swallowed his mouthful quickly, inwardly cursing himself. “Of course,” he nodded, making a mental note to go to the library later and get started on his twelve inches of Transfiguration. It was so like Potter to get him into trouble, even without him actually being involved. And Draco didn’t even get the small compensation of getting to serve detention with Potter, where he could unabashedly stare at him without interruption and with a ready-made excuse.   
Draco did his best to keep himself fully focused on his plate for the remainder of breakfast, engaging in a mundane conversation about Charms classwork with Crabbe and Goyle, who were both characteristically stumped by the concept assigned to them.  
By the end of it, Draco’s patience was running dangerously low and his head was aching horribly from trying to put himself in the other boys’ shoes to explain the wandwork, which was impossibly simplistic to begin with. On his way out of the Great Hall, he allowed himself one glance over at the Gryffindor table, in an attempt to curb his irritability. Weasley and Granger were participating in their usual old-married-couple bickering, each glowing with secret enjoyment, while Potter . . . Draco faltered, nearly smacking into Goyle when he saw that Potter had his arm around the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang, and appeared to be whispering something into her ear with sickening intimacy.   
Stomach churning, Draco nearly ran out of the Great Hall, ignoring the other students’ annoyance as he elbowed them in his haste to get away from the place where Potter was . . . was . . . was nothing. Draco slumped against the wall in the empty corridor he had escaped to. Potter was allowed to do whatever he liked with whomever he liked. It’s not like Draco had a claim on him. He didn’t even know if he wanted to have a claim on the wizarding world’s Chosen One. But that didn’t matter. Because Draco would never be Potter’s Chosen One. Not in this world or the next and it was about time that he got used to it and stopped his senseless mooning.   
Draco pulled himself up to standing, straightening his robes determinedly. He was a Malfoy, for Salazar’s sake. He would not be brought down by some stupid crush. He began to make his way to his first class, rejoining Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy at the entrance to the dungeons. Neither of the boys mentioned his odd flight but Pansy responded to his crisp ‘hello’ with narrowed eyes. He was going to have to come up with a better excuse than classwork.   
The Slytherins were some of the first to slip into the potions classroom, taking their customary seats behind their cauldrons as the Gryffindors who they were doubling with filed in chaotically, filling the air with a dull murmur interspersed with laughter obnoxiously cheerful for so early in the morning. Draco shared customary eyerolls with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Honestly, was Slytherin the only house with any dignity?   
To Draco’s dismay, Weasley and Granger took the seats in front of his, meaning that Potter was soon to follow and Draco would be put through the torture of having to stare at the perfectly tousled hair on the back of his head for the entirety of class. Because this day wasn’t bad enough already.   
Despite the Gryffindors apparent commitment to being the house of the noisy instead of the bold, they fell silent as soon as Professor Snape swooped into the classroom, long back robes trailing behind him. Draco envied his ability to command the room so easily, although whether it came from respect or fear, even he couldn’t testify.   
The only sound in the room was that of parchment being readied and the scritch of quills adding headings to the soon to follow notes as Professor Snape took a small cast iron cauldron out from behind his desk. The air above it shimmered, indicating that a magical seal had been placed over top of the cauldron, although why, Draco wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure why Potter hadn’t arrived at class yet. Snape was sure to dock points from Gryffindor for his tardiness. Perhaps he was too busy snogging that Cho girl to bother with something as trivial as his education. Draco hurriedly pushed the thought away, reminding himself stubbornly that he had decided that he wasn’t going to care anymore and focused his attention onto his professor and head of house beginning the lesson at the front of the room.  
“Today we will be studying one of the most powerful potions to exist,” Snape said, voice impossibly measured. His tone never changed, whether he was describing how to change one's hair colour or stop death itself. “It is so powerful that the Ministry has deemed it dangerous and has made it illegal to use.”   
Granger’s hand, predictably, shot into the air as fast as a Firebolt. Draco could have sworn that Snape rolled his eyes, but if his expression had changed, it was reversed so quickly that he couldn’t be quite sure.   
“Yes, Miss Granger?”   
“If it’s illegal, Professor sir, then why do you have it?”   
“First, Miss Granger,” Snape said cuttingly. “Never assume anything in this classroom. But you are correct this time, which brings me to my second point. It is not illegal to brew Amortentia, merely to use it, which I have no intention of doing.”  
A faint murmuring had gone through the class at the potion’s name, something which even Snape could not quell. The potion was infamous enough that even Crabbe and Goyle leaned forward in their seats. Although he did not let it show, Draco felt a prick of interest himself. After all, it was not every day that you learned about what some said was the most dangerous potion in existence.   
“Yes, you heard me right. Amortentia. The strongest love potion known to man.” The hint of a smile curled over Snape’s thin lips. “And while I will not be administering it to anyone, the potion is so strong that even the smell of it can reveal truths that even we ourselves do not know. In a moment, I will release the magical seal on top of the cauldron and immediately each of you will find this classroom filled with smells that represent things which you are most attracted to.”   
Further excited whisperings filled the classroom as Snape waved his wand over the cauldron, vanishing the magical seal. Instantly, Draco inhaled the scent of broom polish, and treacle tart, reported by the Daily Prophet’s gossip column to be the favourite food of one Harry Potter. He gripped the sharp edge of his cauldron tightly. Not that he was all that surprised. More . . . disappointed that his expectations had been confirmed. Another sharply jabbing reminder of his doomed infatuation.   
Draco refused to dwell on it, distracting himself from the dizzying smells by looking around the classroom at the other students’ reactions. In front of him, Weasley’s ears were shaded more red than his hair and Granger was keeping her eyes determinedly fixated on the floor. Honestly, their blindness was getting a bit pathetic by this point. The rest of the school saw it, teachers included. Merlin, the whole world probably saw it. But at least they would have each other once they got over their obliviousness.   
“So,” Granger said conversationally, obviously of a similar mindset as Draco and seeking distraction. “A shame Harry didn’t make it for such an interesting lesson.”   
Weasley coughed, staring at his feet as he replied in a strangled tone that he apparently thought sounded natural. “Yeah, I wonder where he got off to. Bit unfair of him, considering he knows that Snape will take it out on Gryffindor. I wouldn’t be surprised if he used this as an excuse to deduct all the points we won from the last Quidditch match.”   
“It was Cho. Remember how she was wailing on about Cedric during breakfast. I think she dragged him off to blubber some more.” Granger shook her head, bushy curls bouncing with the motion. Draco’s stomach sank, his suspicions about Potter and Chang confirmed.  
“Serves him right,” Weasley said stubbornly. “It’s only fair that he has to put up with her sniveling in exchange for losing us all those points from Snape.”   
“Ron, that’s unkind.”  
“I’m just being honest! I don’t know what Harry sees in her!” Draco silently agreed, the scent of treacle tart only growing stronger by the minute.   
“You know it’s not like that anymore. They’re broken up, but Harry feels too guilty about Cedric’s death to push her completely away when she comes crying to him.” Draco let himself feel a moment of ill-born elation before shoving it back down. Just because Potter wasn’t snogging Chang, didn’t mean he wanted to snog Draco. The Weasley girl had been making eyes at him since second year and he was bound to notice soon. Or he’d notice the adoring gazes of practically any girl in school and they’d get married and have a bundle of children with Potter’s unruly hair and emerald green eyes.   
Draco’s fists clenched tighter. Merlin, what was taking so long? Surely the entire class wasn’t going to be spent just standing around, smelling the infuriating potion? If that was the case, points be damned, he wouldn’t be able to take it. He’d have to tear out of the room, slamming the door so hard-  
The door to the classroom slammed open and Potter staggered into the room, excuses ready on his tongue when he stopped short, a puzzled expression slipping over his famous features. And then he asked the entire class a question that Draco had not known he needed to hear so badly: “Why does the entire classroom smell like Malfoy’s cologne?”


	2. In Which Harry Realizes Something Rather Important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to demand, I have added a second part to this Amortentia fic with what ensued after the statement ending the last chapter. Hope you enjoy!

“Why does the entire classroom smell like Malfoy’s cologne?”  
Harry looked around at his classmates, who were all staring at him as though he had just asked if they all fancied coming to jump off of the top of the Astronomy Tower with him. Oh Merlin. Had he somehow started speaking Parseltongue? That would explain their expressions, a mixture of horror and fascination. Just like in dueling club during second year.   
He turned to Ron and Hermione, who would be glad to help him sort out the mix up, but they too had odd expressions plastered across their faces. Behind his freckles, Ron’s face was going almost green and Hermione’s eyes were flicking between him and Malfoy, whose pale eyebrows were raised so high that they nearly disappeared into his hairline. Surely it wasn’t that much of a shock that Harry knew what Malfoy’s expensive cologne smelled like? The Slytherin had been dousing himself in it daily for as long as Harry could remember. It wasn’t even that bad of a smell either, reminding him of spiced apple pie with clove and cinnamon, not like the stuff Dean had tried out the night of the Yule Ball. That had reeked so badly that his date had refused to dance with him and he had ended up hiding in their dormitory for the remainder of the evening, too embarrassed to stay. Compared to that, Harry would take a room full of Malfoy’s cologne any day. But everyone else was looking at him like he was insane. Maybe they just didn’t care for fall spices?  
“I knew it!” Pansy Parkinson suddenly shrieked, breaking the silence that had been coating the classroom as thickly as the scent of the cologne. “I knew there was something odd going on with you Draco. It’s because Potter has a crush on you, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been eyeing the Gryffindor table so strangely during meals.”   
“What?” Harry asked disbelievingly. His stomach turned over with shock and a bizarre tingling sensation went through his insides as the words sank in. “Why would you say that?” For some inexplicable reason, inside of turning to his friends, first he looked to Malfoy, who, for the first time in Harry’s memory, seemed to be . . . blushing? At least, Harry couldn’t think what else to call the faint pink tinging the boy’s usually colourless skin. Harry felt as though he had to touch it to make sure it was not simply a figment of his imagination, run his fingertips along the stained edge of Malfoy’s cheek and-   
Now Harry felt certain that he too was reddening, as he hurriedly shoved the thought away. It had to be a side affect of breathing in so much cologne. Surely such amounts couldn’t be good for one’s health!   
“So, Mr. Potter, you finally deigned to honour us with your presence.”   
Harry turned to see Snape walking slowly towards him, a soft, malicious smile on his face. If he didn’t know better, Harry would have described the look in Snape’s black eyes as ‘glee’, but such a word was far too chipper for the moody potions master.   
“Sorry, Professor, I got caught up on my way,” Harry apologized, truly rueful. Cho had found him at breakfast and wouldn’t let him leave the Great Hall until she had tearfully finished some grief-muddled story about the time she and Cedric went to Honeydukes together on a Hogsmeade weekend. Honestly, it had been one of the most painful experiences Harry had ever had and though he had felt terribly guilty when he finally pulled away, the feeling was more than overshadowed by the relief he felt at getting away from Cho.   
But from the look on Snape’s face, Harry could tell that this excuse would not do him any good.   
“Well, Mr. Potter, while you might get away with such behaviour with the rest of the world, such disrespect will not be tolerated in my classroom. 50 points from Gryffindor,” Snape snarled silkily, tossing the words over his shoulder as he walked back up to the front of the room. “And if you had not been so late, your other query would have been answered as well.”  
Harry was baffled. Was Snape using Malfoy’s cologne in some sort of potion? “I’m sorry sir, I don’t understand.”   
“What a shame,” Snape said thinly. “Who can tell Mr. Potter what valuable piece of instruction he missed while he was off doing Merlin knows what?” He paused, surveying the class before reluctantly giving in to the only hand raised. “Miss Granger, what a surprise.” He pointed at Hermione’s -for once- timidly raised hand, gesturing for her to go forward.   
Hermione gulped, smiling weakly at Harry. “Well, you see Harry, today’s lesson was on Amortentia, and, er, one of the many properties of it is that its scent will change depending on what each individual person finds most attractive.” Hermione shook her head apologetically, mouthing a silent ‘I’m sorry’ at Harry before she continued. “And, well, um, I guess, I mean, the reason why you’re smelling Malfoy’s cologne has to be that, er, you’re attracted to him?” Her voice was uncharacteristically high pitched and questioning as she ended, watching Harry closely, and biting her lip nervously.   
The whole class seemed to hold its breath while waiting for Harry’s reaction, equal parts eager and anxious. Harry, though, wasn’t yet sure himself what that reaction would be. Perhaps a confusion infused ‘huh?’ would be best, given the chaotic swirling in his head.   
The other students’ gazes prickling against his skin and the air suddenly seemed stifling with anticipation, the spicy expensive scent of Malfoy still filling his lungs every time he took a breath. In a split second, Harry turned sharply on his heel and tore out of the potions classroom as quickly as he had come in, unable to stand being in the room for another moment, with everyone’s eyes waiting for him to say something – anything – about what he thought about it all, when he himself didn’t even know what he thought.   
Shoes clattering on the stone floor, he finally slumped to the ground beside a large portrait displaying an old man in a top hat drinking tea, who fled timidly from his painting the moment he saw Harry. Head pounding, Harry leaned back against the cool stone wall, gulping down the corridor’s fresh air.   
A moment later, another set of footsteps thudded against the floor as Malfoy came around the corner, robes billowing behind him, stopping short when he saw Harry sitting on the floor. His gray eyes were wide and frantic and his pale cheeks had gone even pinker from running. A lock of his light hair fell over his forehead and Harry felt the sudden urge to push it back for him. Instead, he clenched a handful of his robes and turned his eyes away from the other boy, who was so infuriating, and beautiful, and . . . and confusing! Or maybe it was Harry who the confusing one. Or at least the confused one. Confused by Malfoy, who was watching him so hesitantly, mouth open as though he wanted to say something. But most of all confused by himself and his reaction to the Amortentia. Harry knew that such a powerful potion was unlikely to be wrong. And Snape may be many things, but a poor potion brewer he was not, much as Harry hated to admit it. Which then had to mean that . . . that the strange feeling he had been getting around Malfoy recently was exactly what he had been afraid to admit to himself it was.   
Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands. Oh, Godric, Malfoy was never going to let him live this one down. Soon it would end up in the papers and the entire wizarding world would know. All because of one damn potion and a blubbering girl who he wasn’t even attracted to! Because he was attracted to Draco Malfoy, who was still standing at the end of the hallway, watching him with an indecipherable expression.   
“Go ahead,” Harry sighed. “Laugh at me. Let’s just get the inevitable over with. I’ll even make it easier on you by spelling it out loud, no denial at all! Somehow, don’t ask me why because I sure as hell don’t know, I, Harry Potter, have a crush on you, Draco. Malfoy. Good Godric.”   
Harry watched as Malfoy walked down the hallway towards him, waiting for his customary disdainful sneer to appear on his impossibly handsome face. He felt tired, and leaned back against the wall, wishing that, what was sure to be one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, was over already.  
But when Malfoy reached Harry’s side, he simply stood there, staring down at him, face so impassive that Harry didn’t have a clue what was going through his head. Harry thought about getting out his wand in case Malfoy was going to hex him, when the Slytherin suddenly knelt down beside him and placed a soft, hesitant kiss on Harry’s lips.   
They both drew back from each other in shock at the contact, eyes fixated on each other’s faces.   
Harry felt the beginning of some words that were sure to come out unintelligible forming on his lips, but he abandoned the thought quickly, instead wrapping his hand around Malfoy’s green and silver striped tie, pulling him back down into a kiss that was somehow even more perfect than the first one. And this time, neither of them pulled back.

***

The next morning, Draco strode through the doors of the Great Hall into breakfast hand in hand with Harry Potter. Any nerves swirling around inside were quickly banished when he looked down at their interlaced fingers, fitted so perfectly together it was if hands were never supposed to be any other way.   
They paused, looking at their respective tables where each of their sets of friends were still focused on their breakfasts.   
“I think we better break it to them separately,” Harry suggested, apprehension clearly visible behind his glasses.   
“You’re probably right,” Draco agreed, stomach churning at the thought of Pansy’s reaction. Oh well, he thought stubbornly, she would learn to be fine with it or at least outwardly pretend to be. Crabbe and Goyle probably wouldn’t even notice if he didn’t make a point of telling them, and even then it might be a struggle for them to even recall why Draco and Harry dating would be something they were against. Even something as ingrained as house rivalry was hard for them to remember.   
“So, I’ll see you in Charms,” Harry prompted, smiling up at Draco in a way that still made him wonder if someone else was standing behind him as the real recipient of Harry’s smile.   
Draco squeezed his hand, insides fizzing with happiness like he had drank a bottle of Butterbeer too quickly. “See you then.”   
They slowly pulled their hands apart, still unable to look away from the other. And then Harry did something that Draco had not known he needed so badly: he reached up and placed a kiss on Draco’s cheek. In view of the entire Great Hall.  
A moment later, the sheer volume of Pansy’s shriek nearly made Draco regret the incident entirely.   
“Draco, why the fuck is Potter kissing you?!”


End file.
